8thdayfiction

…and on the 8th day, micro fiction was published on some dude's blog.

The Ides Of July

“All right, I gotta go. Talk to you later.”

“OK, Sis. Oh–and beware The Ides of July.”

“Huh?”

“Beware The Ides of July–it’s that time of year, right?”

“Den, it’s ‘The Ides of March’. There is no ‘Ides of July’.”

“I’m pretty sure there is. So, you know: Beware them.”

“OK, Denny, whatev. I gotta go.”

“All right, Lace. But seriously, bew–”

Laci hung up on him. She had heard him the first–what?–three times, and besides, there WAS no ‘Ides of J–

She had only gone that far with her thoughts when she walked into a cobweb, let go of her phone while flailing her arms around trying to remove the cobweb from herself, knocked her forehead and wrist on the low-hanging section of ceiling above the stairwell, and heard her phone hit the floor at the foot of the steps, breaking into several pieces as she hit the stairs and slid the rest of the way down, joining the phone pieces at the bottom.

Also, she was pretty sure at some point she had swallowed the spider that owned that cobweb.

She was tempted to call Denny back and tell him ‘The Ides of July’ got her, but her phone was trashed.

And, she hated when her brother was right. She could hear him now: “See, Lace? I told ya! ‘The Ides of July’–it’s a thing!” He was such a dork.

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